


the feeling is regret but the dream is where we are - or: popsicles make a strange but delicious metaphor

by quoththegayven



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Campaign: Balance (The Adventure Zone), F/M, Magnus's Backstory, Pre-Canon, Raven's Roost, maggie and jules talk deep weird feelings, theyre so cute together i love them so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:53:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24010114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quoththegayven/pseuds/quoththegayven
Summary: Complex emotions are bullshit. Julia tries to explain them, and Magnus tries to offer a solution.Inspired by and contains elements of an rp written by me and@loudlydistinguishedhologram(because I still can't quite write by myself yet :P).
Relationships: Julia Burnsides/Magnus Burnsides
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	the feeling is regret but the dream is where we are - or: popsicles make a strange but delicious metaphor

Skipping Kerry Ironfire's going-away party maybe makes Julia a buzzkill. She isn't sure.

She was all ready to go, really she was. She'd put on a peasant blouse and the one purple skirt Magnus liked that was the color of the sky at twilight, he said, and she'd tied her dreads back with a bandanna and stuffed the gift in her pocket and she'd made sure the dogs were safe in the back room. But on the way out the door she'd chickened out. She'd _just happened_ to conveniently notice exactly how dirty all the smithy tools were, so she decided - well, it's better than ruining my best friend's last night in town with dumb _emotions_.

Because Kerry is leaving town to become an adventurer. Honest to goodness, with a party and everything - a wizard and a ranger, apparently, that she met in the Port Column last week. And Julia is jealous.

It's the worst, and Julia thinks, _if I keep scrubbing the rivet pliers really, really well, maybe it'll go away._

She doesn't notice Magnus until he clears his throat. He's really good at that, sometimes, weirdly, sneaking up on people. It's weird because the rest of the time you can hear him coming a mile away. Now, he kicks at the ground with a scuffed boot and says, "You're missing all the action, you know."

She hums in acknowledgment, refusing to look at him, trying to pretend his sudden, sharp cough didn't make her jump a foot.

"And your skirt's all wet and dusty," he continues, leaning against the wall of the Hammer and Tongs and sliding down it til he lands on his butt on the grass beside her. Well, beside the tub she dragged outside to sit on in the shade of the workshop. It was warm and breezy outside, air carrying the scent from the neighbors’ flower boxes. The perfect late-spring day - and quiet. The Craftsman's Column gets empty in the late afternoon, when the workday ends and people start heading to the bars. Like she was supposed to have, for Kerry's party.

"Well, now, your pants are dirty," she shoots back. But there's no venom in it. She isn't mad at _him_ , after all.

"Wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asks. She can feel his gaze on her hands, watching her press harder with the rag, water dripping from the sodden fabric and into the bucket below. "Maybe give that metal a break?"

A snort, and one more vehement scrub on the pliers, before Julia lets her hands go lax. “Nothing’s wrong,” she says airily. She’s going for nonchalance, but she still doesn’t meet his eyes. “Not really. I’m just being a baby. I’ll get over it.”

“C’mon, Jules.” He reaches for her arm, wiping at a running drip she must have splashed on herself. “I’ve known you long enough to know something’s wrong. You’re not being a baby just for having feelings.”

Ugh. Magnus makes even lectures seem sweet. She leans back, tilting her head toward the late-afternoon sky. “I knoooowww. Feelings are good, I know. I just.” The clouds are moving, slowly. Her eye drifts after one as it wisps overhead. “I wish I wasn’t having them, even if they’re totally valid. I don’t wanna be the downer who wishes…who wishes it were me going out there.”

Magnus hums _ohhhhh_.

Finally she turns her head to look at him. He’s dressed up a little, too, and tried to comb his unruly reddish hair for the occasion it looks like, but the stubborn cowlick at the back of the halfhearted part has refused to lay flat. He grins as soon as they make eye contact in that _i-got-you_ sort of way. 

"You know I used to want that," she adds.

He nods. "Yeah, I remember."

She lets the pliers slide into the bucket. They make a soft _bloop_ sound as they hit the bottom, the water’s surface breaking apart into a million ripply pieces.

"You know," Magnus says, slowly, "Kerry isn't - y'know, the owner of 'adventures'."

Julia leans back again, cocking an eyebrow at him. "What's that mean?"

"Means you could still go have one. Go be an adventurer too. Nothing's in your way." 

He's searching her face, his expression a mixture of earnestness and...something else. Something soft. Julia can't quite tell, but she can tell he wants to comfort her. She wipes her still-wet hand on her skirt and reaches over to ruffle his hair. It looks better messy anyway. "I guess not. But for now, I'm here, and I have a job to do, and I can't leave Dad alone. There's a lot keeping me here. I'm _invested_ in Raven's Roost. So -" she breaks off. What does she want to say? "Fuck."

"Fuck," prompts Magnus.

 _Why_ do words have to be so hard? Julia rolls her head back toward the sky, searching for the right phrase, or maybe for a bird or something that could fly by and distract her from having to _explain_ herself. " _Fuck,_ " she says. "I don't want to make this a whole big...me-being-selfish deal. This is Kerry's thing, not mine."

"Doesn't mean you don't get to have feelings!" Magnus scoots closer to her, probably getting grass stains on the seat of his pants, and lays his hand on her knee. "Kerry's living your dream. You being a little jealous, it's not selfish or - or - anything else! It’s okay to feel like that. But you can also feel happy for Kerry, right?”

"I _know_ ," she says. She's not frustrated at him, she's _not_ , but her voice has accidentally turned that flavor that's biting and harsh. She takes a deep breath and searches for something that’ll make sense of how she feels. "It's like - you know the feeling you get when you’re a little kid, and your dad tells you you can have a popsicle?"

Magnus nods. "Who doesn't? Well - people without dads. Forget I said that, keep going."

Julia ignores his aside and follows her train of thought, which _is_ (hopefully) going somewhere. "You rush over to the freezer, all excited, and he asks if you want a purple one or a red one. And you know they're both good. You know either one would make you happy, but…" She's curling a fist into her skirt, needing something to do with her hands.

"You pick the red one. Every time, you pick the red one. And you enjoy every minute that you eat it. But then, you're licking the sticky stuff off your fingers, and a little voice goes - why didn't you take the purple one? You know it would have been good too. Why did you just do what you always do, again? And you resolve yourself: _next_ time, you promise, _next_ time I'm gonna get the purple one. But you never do."

She sighs. "Then, it turns out your friend really likes purple popsicles, and she gets one, and even though you're happy for her it just reminds you that you probably won't be having one any time soon." 

It's a dumb explanation, she thinks, but Magnus is nodding, moving his hand over hers. Untangling it from the skirt and twining their fingers together. She leans into him, warm and solid beside her. If anything makes sense right now, it's this.

"I think I know what you mean," he tells her.

She laughs, once, relieved. "Okay. Good. I'm just...worried that that'll bleed through if I try to go and celebrate."

"Then we can catch her before she leaves. Say goodbye on your own terms. Would that be better?"

It probably would. Sometimes Magnus seems wise beyond his years, emotionally speaking. She squeezes his hand twice as a thank you. "Okay, baby. We'll find her when the thing wraps up."

He squeezes back. A moment later, though, his eyes go distant, and he curls his bottom lip between his teeth - thinking.

"Jules?"

"Mhmm?"

"Why _don't_ you just go be an adventurer," he says. Not asks. It's not really a question, per se. "You know I'd support you. Your dad would support you."

She laughs a little sheepishly before she can stop herself. "I know. I'm not worried about that. I'm worried about...something happening to him, while I'm gone. It's paranoia, but it's there." She sighs, though her teeth, and runs a thumb along the side of his hand. It's so much lighter than hers - even freckly in places. Short nails with flecks of navy blue still on them from the last time he polished them. They both have calluses, but Magnus's are softer. Skill like a journeyman, hands like a baby, Steven likes to tell them.

"He needs someone," she says. "It would be really tough for him if we left."

Magnus's head bumps gently against the wall. While she's been fooling with their hands, he's been watching them, still biting his lip. Still thinking. Or, now he's the one trying to find the right words. 

"I could stay with Steven," he starts, hesitantly. "If you wanted...if you wanted to try the purple popsicle, if it was something you needed to do, and you wanted someone to stay and eat the red one, I would eat it. For you." 

His voice wobbles just a little, on _for you_ , just enough, and now it's Julia's turn to be concerned. She turns to him, reaching for his other hand too. "Oh, Magnus - no, no, I'm not leaving! I'm not leaving you or my dad. I don't want anything to happen to either of you. And I'd miss you so much!"

"But you shouldn't miss out on one popsicle just because you also like the other one," he says, sitting up straight. His eyes flicker back to hers. "You shouldn't let the popsicle - melt and - and get all over you without ever getting to eat it, and - fuck, this metaphor's getting weird -"

" _Magnus._ " She holds his hands, tight, hoping her grip and her voice can ground him like they do when he has those dreams he can't remember. "Magnus. I'm not leaving. I don't feel - held back, or anything like that. I love it here. I love my dad, and I love you. This is what I want. _This_ is my choice. First and foremost."

There's a pause, brief, and then Magnus leans heavy into her arms. 

She wraps them around him. Even outside the workshop he smells like wood shavings, cedar and birch. She loves that he wants to be there for her. That he wants to speak her language, and that her happiness means so much to him. He makes her feel like - more than just loved. Respected. Like an equal partner, helping and being helped.

They need each other, she thinks, and thank gods they're strong enough to carry each other, if they need it.

"You would tell me if you felt trapped," he says, looking up at her. It's very fantasy _Pietà_. "Right Jules?"

"I would tell you."

He squeezes her hand slightly, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "I don’t want you to feel like you’re not getting enough out of life. I love you. I want you to have everything.”

Gods, he’s so sweet. Julia wrests her fingers free and relocates them, cups the sides of his face to turn it toward hers - his sideburns tickle her palms.

"Maggie," she says. "I can't have everything, and I know it. That's why this hurts. I'm missing out a life that would make me happy. But - look at me - I am _already_ happy."

He lets out a soft breath. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're right, I could leave if I really wanted to. But I choose to stay here with you and Dad, and this town." She turns his head, and hers too, toward the square. Beyond the gates of the Hammer and Tongs, the Craftsman's Column is spread out around them - the multicolored lamps from the glassblowers’ guild starting to glow in that early-evening way, standing on posts Julia helped forge when she was ten, lighting up the stoneworkers’ road and the gently waving banners the weavers make for each shop as a gesture of good fortune. Raven’s Roost is buzzing with life, even with most of the people gone drinking, even with the sound of evening crickets starting to chirp merrily.

"Even if I'm missing out on a godsdamn purple popsicle,” she tells him, “the red one is making me just as happy."

Magnus laughs. She can hear his relief. “Okay.”

Things are starting to feel better now. More stable. Julia gives his cheek a pat and extends her arms in invitation. She doesn’t need to say anything - he just falls right back in, a puzzle piece coming home.

"I want a popsicle now," he says, muffled into her shoulder, and she can’t stop herself from smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to my fantastic Magnus [@loudlydistinguishedhologram](https://loudlydistinguishedhologram.tumblr.com/) for writing with me, as well as betaing this fic version of the scene! Couldn't have done this without you!


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